


An Offer You Must Refuse

by foreword



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_j2_xmas, F/F, Gen, painting_walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4898305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreword/pseuds/foreword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tessa delivers the news about the Roadhouse and makes Ellen an offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Offer You Must Refuse

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://painting-walls.livejournal.com/profile)[painting_walls](http://painting-walls.livejournal.com/) as part of the 2009 [](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/profile)[spn_j2_xmas](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/). Originally posted on livejournal.

  
It's the middle of the afternoon when Tessa comes for her.

Ellen is standing in the frozen foods aisle of the grocery store, wondering if she should pick up some dinner for tonight while she's here. Really, though, she knows she ought to get back to the bar. She doesn’t like the idea of leaving Ash in charge for very long. She can only imagine what sort of music he’s blasting in her absence, what sort of irresponsible gambles he’s making with hunters.

"You can't go back."

It's a soft, feminine voice and a soft breath against her ear. Ellen closes her eyes involuntarily.

"What?" she manages to say. She turns but it’s clumsy, and she almost stumbles against the freezer.

There's no one else in the aisle aside from a tiny, beautiful little brunette girl, hardly older than Jo. She ’s leaning against the glass doors of the frozen dinners, directly in front of Ellen. She smiles at Ellen, a little sad, secret smile, and that's when Ellen notices how fucking silent it is in here. It's like they're all alone, for miles and miles.

"What are you?" Ellen says, straightening up and wondering if she still has that bottle of holy water in her bag. It can’t be a demon though. She’s not like any demon Ellen’s ever seen.

"Shh," the girl says, stepping quietly towards her. Ellen is surprised when she doesn't move back, doesn't want there to be any space between them. She's more surprised when the girl places a finger against her mouth and smiles that little smile again. "It's okay, Ellen."

Her finger is soft against Ellen's lips, and there’s something soothing to it, something that makes her hope that finger never leaves her mouth. Ellen shakes her head, and the girl's finger drops. She's giving Ellen a concerned, quizzical look now, and Ellen feels confused, dizzy.

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Tessa," the girl says, smiling a sweeter smile than Ellen has seen yet. "Don't you want to come with me?"

Ellen frowns and shakes her head again, wondering at the sudden, weird ache in her chest as she starts thumbing through her mental catalogue of demons and magic and lore, searching for anything called Tessa. "What do you want?"

Tessa smiles, takes a step back, and Ellen is immediately surprised and suspicious at once. "I just want you to come with me, Ellen. Don't you want to? Won't it be better if you do?"

"I don't under--"

"The Roadhouse is gone," the strange girl says, bluntly. "It's all over. You were supposed to be there and I'm here to offer you the choice. I don't get to do this very often, Ellen. But I'm glad that it's with you."

Tessa reaches forward, drags her fingertips across Ellen's wrist, and Ellen drops the jar of peanuts and the bag of pretzels she'd been holding. The jar shatters as it hits the floor, sending peanuts and glass shards scattering across the aisle.

"Just what exactly are you?" she says, not daring to believe a word of it, not yet. She's almost hoping that this girl is a lying demon, though something in her gut tells her that she's wrong. There's something too innocent, too matter-of-fact about this girl to be tangled up in demon bullshit. She has a terrible feeling that the Roadhouse really is gone.

Tessa gives her an awkward smile, and her fingertips dip down over Ellen's wrist to tangle with her fingers. She leans in until Ellen can feel her body, warm and flush up against hers. "I think you know," she says in a soft little breath against Ellen's ear.

And Ellen does know. She knows that more than anything, she wants to go with Tessa. She wants to leave the peanuts where they've fallen, leave the life at the Roadhouse behind and not worry about anything ever again. But that's the coward's way, and Ellen's no coward. She closes her eyes.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

She feels a soft little disappointed sigh against her ear, and then the feel of Tessa’s lips against her cheek.

“I know, Ellen. But I had to try.”

Ellen opens her eyes, and Tessa’s already pulling away, already ready to leave her there when Ellen finds her voice again.

“Wait,” she says, surprising herself with how empty, how sad she feels at the thought of Tessa leaving. “Don’t go.”

Tessa pauses, their fingers still loosely tangled together, her breath still warm and sweet against Ellen’s ear. She smiles a sad little smile and waits.

“You took the others?” Ellen says, voice suddenly raspy and rough, and something tugs at her chest with every word. “Everyone?”

Tessa nods solemnly but doesn’t speak.

“Ash?” Ellen feels stupid for asking, like she’s known this entire time, but wrapping her mind around that silly smartass being gone with the rest of the hardened hunters is hard.

Tessa doesn’t tell her she’s stupid, though. She only nods again, and Ellen’s stomach twists.

“Why?” Ellen whispers. She shifts, her bag suddenly feeling like the heaviest thing she’s ever lifted, and a handful of abandoned peanuts crunch softly under her foot.

“I can’t answer that,” Tessa says softly. She lifts Ellen’s hand to her mouth, brushes her lips against her fingers and kisses her palm. “Come with me?” she murmurs against Ellen’s hand.

“You know I can’t.”

Tessa drops her hand and Ellen feels the sudden, sharp tug of misery set in at the loss of her touch. It’s almost enough to change her mind, almost enough to forget about Jo and the crazy hunting life she’s lived for so long now, to hand it over in exchange for a little bit of peace. But she doesn’t cry, doesn’t ask Tessa to wait again, doesn’t give up the way a lesser woman might have.

She watches Tessa disappear just past the frozen peas and the world comes crashing back to her. She stares down at the scattered peanuts, at the broken, busted glass, and wonders how she’ll ever piece this all back together again.


End file.
